Sunflower's Daughter/Chapter 1
This is Chapter 1 of Sunflower's Daughter, released in October 22, 2013. Chapter 1 - 7:03 AM 7:03 AM. Nina finally decides to open her eyes and get up from bed, after having heard that obnoxious alarm of her’s for the second time. She looks up at the cream-colored ceiling above her, paint peeling from its age. The blinds were closed, yet she can still see its color. It was distinct. She lets the alarm of the digital clock beside her buzz for a few more seconds until she finally swings her hand over to it and taps the top. She inhales deeply and rubs her whole face with both her hands, finally deciding to get up. She wore a top and her gray polka-dot pajamas that night. She goes over to her closet mirror and takes a look at herself. Her eyes scanned up and down. Nothing different. She turns to look over at the bedside table where her lamp stood. Her hair band was there. She walks over to pick it up and goes back to the mirror. She ties her semi-short, pale blonde hair into a complicated mix-up of knots and tangles, hair band in hand. No need for a tie. Afterwards, she looks at the band, the one she’ll be wearing for today. It was worn out, but she can still see the individual flowers on it. Beautiful. She seals up her do by tying the band just above her forehead. She turns her head left and right, looking at herself. Tattoos still intact; the vine maze behind the palm of her right hand in particular. She tempts herself by trying to push the lower area of her neck to the mirror, but to no avail; it was fairly hard to see, with all this clothing on. Time to start today. This particular, special day… -------- 7:12 AM. “Mom?” Nina’s call echoes throughout the seemingly empty hall, onwards to the living room. “Ma…” she tries again. No response. She walks barefoot past the opened door of her mom’s room, toward the living room. She smells… smoke. Very particular, ashy smoke. Nina couldn’t decide if it was bad or good. Good, that her mom saved some hasheesh for her, and bad, that she might never stop smoking it again. And right there, she sees it. On the wooden table, next to the potted plant that’s pale in comparison with the thing in the ziplock bag, and all the other colorful knick knacks her mom liked to call “spiritual jewelry”. There was already a half-burnt joint not enough for smoking on the ceramic ashtray, and a half-full ziplock just right next to it. Nina approaches it with interest and takes the bag for closer inspection. It was green, raw, ready for wrapping. Just need to get some paper… Nina’s face crumples as she thinks about it. Should she touch this? She stretches a bit to prevent her thoughts from getting into overdrive. Habit tells her to smoke it, but conscience says no. Nina throws the bag up and down in her hand while she walks over to the kitchen to look for the wraps. She goes over to the counter top and swings every shelf she can open before hesitating on the third one. She can’t smoke. Her throat’ll get all ache-y again from all the choking she’s going to have to do. She throws the bag on the counter top, and looks at it, deeply for a second. Partly from her morning grogginess, partly from the temptation… No. She plops the ziplock bag onto the table, and deeply sighs. She closes her eyes, purses her lips, and decides to leave it alone. Her grogginess takes her to the kitchen countertop, to which she notices a piece of folded note paper. Must’ve passed by her when she went looking for the wraps… She takes the paper, goes over to the living room sofa, unraveling it as she plops herself onto the cushion. It was—her mother. Obviously. She had terrible handwriting. “Dearest Spiritual Extension Nina…” Nina furrows her eyebrows upon reading it. “I’ve gone and left. You are aware of what tody is;we both listend to it on the radio, the coming of the Reap,The deckay of all that is living---” The elementary grammar and punctuation put a smile on her face. She was no better writer herself but she knows for a fact that she could write better— “You know what will guid you you are my dotter.” Her spelling was really hit-and-miss. “A seed from a spiritual mind a extension, a daughter of the Sunflower---pleas take care of you’reself, you now i don need to say goodbye.” “Of course not—” Nina murmurs. She feels her nose sting briefly. “Of course you wouldn’t wake me up for this—” “i left you with the herb of our broders and sisters plese use it wiseley. Be there with me mind and spirit. i am going to meet Herv and he will take me to Monk Infermarian Sekhum---” Her old convert-monk friends. Today must’ve been something truly special if she reached out this far… “We will be commence our spiritual journey to another plane---and it will help me fight the coming evils that is death.” Oh, you mean you’re going to smoke incense and weed at the same time? “I adore you, my spiritual extension. Live on this new world and pleas dont make my mistakes.” And that was it. No parting words. Nina pauses looking at it, and scoffs. Is she really going out that far? She scans the letter a few more times and turns it around. There was… another note. A small paragraph she must’ve missed. The handwriting was cleaner, but the size of it made it hard to make out. She squints at it, and reads… “Nina—go to Brodin’s Shooting Range and hand them the receit. Receit is on the fridge” Brodin’s… the name rings a bell in Nina’s ears. Didn’t she… plan doing some kind of sabotage inside that store, but backed out after being afraid of getting shot? She can’t say she loves guns, but she’s decided that secret protests are too “passive-aggressive”. She doesn’t necessarily condone guns, but it’s never bothered her lately, so… She’ll have to see it for herself. Her mom made a note of picking it up… and she hates guns just as much as her. Maybe it was something special. She throws the note aside, stands up, and walks over to the fridge. On the way, she thought about it… all those police reports down south on amateur radio streams. Pirate radio stations talking about hostiles… -------- 7:56 AM. Nina took some time doing a bit of everything. Picking out an outfit, brushing her teeth, her hair… picking out good shoes. She’s decided on this today. A lavender tie-dye top, sleeveless, a little bit bigger than her athletic top underneath. Running pants that are cut off from the shins, and her tennis shoes. New ones, bought from Ross about a month ago. Breaking them in today would be pretty ideal. Of course, she couldn’t forget about her jewelry. Two leather armlets, numerous different-colored bracelets on top. Her mom made maybe one or two of these—but most come from her aunt and grandmother. And then there were her three different necklaces, nearly covering her neck. She eye-lines her brows at least two times and puts a thin coat of gloss on her lips, and she was ready to go. Not even any fragrance. Just the good ol’ smell of Nina, and the smell of… her house, she’s guessing. She pockets her cell phone and wallet, grabs the one and only car keys from the rack, and heads outside. The receipt—with the P—is all folded up, next to her wallet. She’s ready to go. Upon going outside, she feels the sweet, gentle breeze blow right through her. “Good morning grandma,” she mutters (she likes to believe it’s her, at least). The sky was bright, and the weather was just right. Today was perfect… too perfect for any crazy, “viral pandemic” things happening. She skips over the steps, out of her bliss, and walks over to the car parked at the curb in front of her front porch. A decades-old station wagon, pale-green. Instagram-worthy. But… she can’t really use that stupid app. Her flip phone can’t run it. Nina inserts the keys onto the door and opens it. She sits on the driver’s seat, remembers that she does indeed have a license, and closes the door. She grips the steering wheel with both her hands for a few seconds and takes a whiff of the fresh, car smell. Aside for the hint of hasheesh, it smelled like pine trees and Febreze. All of that mixing into the unique, warm smell that is Nina’s car. And it was glorious. -------- 8:09 AM. It didn’t take long to reach the gun store, since her neighborhood isn’t that far from the shopping areas of town. Parking did take most of the time, though. Nina takes the receipt out of her pocket as she enters. It was pretty empty for the most part, aside for two others walking around, and the lone cashier with the thick moustache, trucker hat, and aviators. He stares at Nina for a good amount of time, as if he was wondering what a girl like her was doing there. Nina hesitantly approaches the counter, her eyes trailing off at the numerous rifles, shotguns, rifles again… all rowed up behind him, creating nothing but a shiny black wall. The man stares at her for a little bit longer. “Hmmm…” Nina did not appreciate the judging eyes of this man; she just knows it… right behind those aviators. He folds his arms proudly. “What’dya want?” he asks, in a hidden condescending tone. Nina’s eyebrows lower a little bit more. He already hates this guy. “I have a… receipt. With a note…” She awkwardly presents the folded piece of paper toward him, and the man takes it. He looks at it for a few seconds. “Hmmm… yeah, yeah this makes sense. So was that your mom who came in earlier today?” Nina’s expression changes to that of curiousness. “My… mom?” “Yeah. Guess that was your mom. Paid for it and everything.” The man scoffs, and turns to his side to vanish for a second. “Here.” He comes back with a small, cardboard box in his hands, setting it onto the counter and pushing it toward Nina. “Can’t say you’re the first to get a gun this particular day…” Nina, thirsting for answers, opens the box hesitantly. She unravels the white, paper wrappings and sees its content, ever so clearly. “Your mom or… whoever she was requested this two weeks ago. Had one made for herself, too.” Nina takes it. The contents of the box. She feels its heaviness on her right hand, struggling a bit to even keep it steady… “Nineteen-eleven Colt. First World War. And…” The man puts his glasses up to reveal his eyes, squinting at the firearm in Nina’s hand. “… custom paint job. Now more… girly.” He smirks. “Not an unusual request, if I do say so m’self.” It had a half-orange-half-magenta handle. The top was slightly bronzed… just a hint. She continued to glare at it weirdly. “Your mom paid a good amount o’ money for that. Go ahead. Keep it.” Nina transfers her weird look over to the man. “No license needed, if that’s what you’re thinking. Not today, of course. It’s Judgment Day!” His smirk brightens to a grin. Nina thinks about it for a second. She looks around her, to see where she can stuff it. She nearly forgets about the shoulder bag she’s been carrying all this time. “Oh, and… before you forget.” The man walks over to the far right side of the counter and bends down. He goes back to Nina with a handful of boxes and two magazines. “Complimentary. You want a bag for it?” Free bullets. That’s all Nina thinks about. Not the gun in her purse. Just the… free bullets. For today. No need to pay. “Y-yes please,” she replies. 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